The Ballad of the Mire
by writer writing
Summary: Sister Ruth sinks into a deep depression she can't pull herself out of when she and Kid Cole lose a child. 1838. AU. Ninth in a series.
1. Chapter 1

Sister Ruth and Kid Cole hadn't been in Denver long, but there was a pounding on the door. It was late. Ruth had already changed into her night clothes. She wrapped a shawl around her while Kid went to the door.

"This is Sister Ruth's room?" Apparently word was already out that they were there. He looked past Kid to Ruth. "I need you to come help my wife." There was a sense of urgency, desperation in his voice and it must have been an emergency if he couldn't wait for a decent hour.

"Of course. Just let me get changed first."

Kid shut the door back while the man waited in the hall. "I don't know if I like you going off with a strange man in the middle of the night."

"He looks harmless to me even if a little ragged. The poor man don't look like he's gotten much sleep, but if you're worried, I'm sure he wouldn't mind you coming along."

Kid did just that.

"What's wrong with her?" Ruth asked as they walked a moonlit path to the man's house.

"Nothing."

Kid and Ruth both froze in their tracks at that answer. Was something sinister going on after all? Was the man leading them into some sort of trap?

The man hurried to explain. "There's nothing really physically wrong with her. It's her mind. Her heart. I'm afraid I'll lose her just the same as if she had some serious disease. The doctors can't do anything for her. I thought maybe a religious woman like yourself could."

Compassion replaced her momentary fear. "I'll do my best, brother."

The house was small and the inside of it looked neglected. The man lead her to his wife's bedside and then he and Kid left them alone.

"Hi, I'm Sister Ruth. I don't know if your husband told you he was getting me or not."

There was silence. The woman didn't even turn to face her. So Ruth continued. "He's worried about you. How you feeling?"

"Poorly." Though she answered, Ruth still only saw was the woman's messy, dark blonde braid.

"I don't know what you're going through, but the Lord's only a prayer away. Would you like to pray with me now?"

The woman turned this time. She didn't look sick, but she did look as if she were experiencing an inner struggle. And in some ways a sickness of the spirit could be much worse than any ailment of the body.

"Tell me, Sister Ruth, do you think a Christian is allowed to have melancholia or does it mean that I don't really know God?"

_March 25th, 1838_

Kid and Ruth had been wintering in St. Louis, Missouri. Further south would've been better for Kid, but he'd stubbornly refused to go any further when he'd found out Ruth was expecting their second child.

St. Louis didn't get much snow though as a rule and it didn't get extremely cold, so there were worst places to hunker down. Thankfully, the climate didn't seem to be aggravating any of his symptoms. There was access to good medical care as St. Louis had continued to grow tremendously since their first visit and now had a population of close to 15,000 and many more shops.

They were letting an empty parsonage that their friend John Meachum had arranged for them. The church was pastored, but as the wife was well-to-do and they had a growing family, they'd moved into a bigger home, but it suited the Coles perfectly for the time being.

Ruth sat in a lovely needlepoint chair with Mercy on her lap, though there wasn't as much of her lap as there used to be. Mercy didn't seem to mind; she sat astride, facing her mother.

"We shall not, we shall not be moved  
We shall not, we shall not be moved  
Just like a tree that's standing by the water  
We shall not be moved."

Mercy warbled along with Ruth, The third line sounded sort of like gibberish, but the basic melody was there. She wasn't singing perfectly on key, of course, but Ruth and Kid both thought it was pretty impressive for a 21 month old. Kid was extra tickled because his daughter matched her mother's Appalachian accent word for word as she sang, sounding darling.

It was nearing Mercy's bedtime. Kid scooped her up. "Where's your nose?"

"Nose," Mercy repeated, putting her finger there.

"Your ear?"

"Ear," she echoed, pointing to the right spot.

"And your mouth?" Kid asked.

She was right again.

"You are so smart," he praised. "Can I have a kiss?"

Mercy puckered and put a kiss on his cheek.

"How about one for your Momma?" he asked, bringing her down to Ruth's cheek where she complied.

"Love you, baby," Ruth said.

"Love you, Momma," Mercy said, returning the sweet words.

Kid put her to bed in the trundle bed that had been left behind and returned to Ruth not long after. "She's out like a light. I've never seen a kid fall asleep so fast."

But Ruth wasn't smiling. She was wincing. "It looks like Mercy will be getting her little sister or brother sooner rather than later."


	2. Chapter 2

Kid went for the midwife after he settled Ruth into bed. The midwife was only a little older than Ruth, but she'd had many years of successful experience and she had a calm, reassuring manner that they'd both liked. Most importantly she was a praying woman.

The midwife came in cheerfully. "So it's time? How wonderful. I'm always so excited to meet a new little one," she said as she rolled up her sleeves. She felt to make sure the baby was in the right position and then they played the waiting game.

Something felt different about this birth to Ruth. The pain was much worse than it was with her first. She couldn't expect that everything would be exactly the same, she told herself. She had to keep reminding herself of that fact often.

She felt great relief when the long, excruciating birth was over, but the relief didn't last long.

There was no cry and the silence was a slow torture that grew worse with every passing second. The midwife had her back turned as she cleaned and bundled. It looked as if she were praying too, but at last she turned back around with the baby.

The midwife handed her to Kid first. "A girl. I'm so sorry."

The baby was smaller than Mercy had been. Her wispy hair was black like Kid's. He opened one of her eyelids, a beautiful light blue like her mother's. She had long, graceful fingers like she'd been born to play the piano or to be an artist. She was so perfect and whole. It looked as if she were only sleeping, but her coloring said otherwise.

"Why is she sorry? Kid? Why is she sorry?" Deep down she knew. The terrible pain of the labor, the lack of a cry, the midwife's expression, it could only mean one thing, but she hoped against hope that she was wrong.

He placed their stillborn daughter into Ruth's arms, wanting to say something to comfort her but words failed him. What kind of words were there for this?

The awful truth was confirmed before her and Ruth's sobs rent the air, which made Kid feel like crying even more, but he kept the tears back for Ruth's sake and his own because he wasn't sure he'd be able to stop if he started. Crying in front of the midwife, a relative stranger, also didn't appeal to him.

The midwife waited patiently until the sobs subsided. "It happens sometimes. It's nothing you did or didn't do. Only God knows why. You don't seem to be in any danger, but I can get a doctor to look you over."

Ruth didn't care for her own health at the moment. She shook her head, but Kid nodded, so the midwife left to get one.

Sister Ruth prayed silently at first. Maybe it wasn't yet too late for her to be saved. God was the God of miracles. If only she believed like the saints of old, and she did, she could pray for Him to restore her baby's soul to her body.

She spoke her prayer out loud. "Oh, Lord Jesus. You give life and it's Your right to take it away. We are but dust, but look down and grant us Your healing power. We know it's not too impossible a situation for You for You are the Great Physician. Have compassion on us poor sinners. May she live to praise Your name on the earth. It's too soon for her to go to her rest. Please, Father."

The baby remained so still, so unmoving, and her last thread of hope was taken away. "No, no. no."

Kid took their daughter back from her, sensing her emotional pain was too intense to continue holding her. It was too much for him right now too. He placed her in the cradle they'd had ready for her.

He returned to Ruth's side. She was now clutching a pillow tightly. Her arms having felt too empty.

"She didn't even have a name," she said so quietly he almost didn't hear her.

"We can give her one now."

"I can't. You can, but I can't."

He wouldn't do it if it was going to cause her added pain.

He was still somewhat in shock over this. He wanted to go off by himself and just cry and grieve, but he knew his wife needed him right now; she needed a listening ear when she was ready to talk about it because that was how she processed her grief. And he wanted to wait to make sure the delivery hadn't hurt her. He reached out to put a comforting hand on her.

She cringed ever so slightly as if his touch had hurt her, which hurt him, but he brought his hand back. They waited silently for the midwife to return with the doctor.

The view out the window was beautiful, a purple-blue sky with a peach horizon, but it was salt in the wound, serving as a reminder that it was a sight their baby girl had never even gotten to see even for just a second. All she'd known was darkness.

The doctor gave Ruth a clean bill of health and like the midwife he told them how sorry he was over their loss.

The morning light was now pouring into the room when they were left alone. Mercy was calling to them from the next room.

Ruth longed to go to her to take her mind off what had just happened even for just a little bit, but her body wasn't up to it after having just given birth as vain as that birth had turned out to be.

"I'll go to her. She probably wants breakfast. Do you want breakfast?"

She shook her head.

He hated to leave her like this, but he had to. "Do you want me to get Reverend Meacham?"

"That would be nice."

Once more, he hesitated to leave her, but he heard Mercy call again. The world kept turning even when your own world was crashing down.


	3. Chapter 3

The funeral was delayed for 2 days to give Ruth time to recover from the birth. Reverend Meacham was a godsend, getting the casket, burial spot, and gravestone ready and seeing that food was delivered to the house for their meals, made by the women from his church.

The headstone the reverend had picked out was made from gray-blue slate and shaped into a cross. The simple inscription read "Baby Cole March, 26 1838", the day of her birth and death.

The graves like all the graves in the churchyard faced the east, the direction Christ would appear from one day. The sunrise would spill across the gravesite every morning as the body waited to reunite with the soul when the final trumpet sounded.

The reverend told the story of David's loss of a baby. "And David said 'While the child was yet alive, I fasted and wept: for I said, Who can tell whether God will be gracious to me, that the child may live? But now he is dead, wherefore should I fast? Can I bring him back again? I shall go to him, but he shall not return to me.'

"I tell you this to say this that you that you will meet your little daughter in heaven one day. Mercy will know her younger sister. Her life though brief wasn't meaningless. Some live to be old men and women, wasting their years with evil, godless deeds, so that when you add it altogether their life on this earth meant nothing, but this little baby has reminded us to take stock of our lives because life is short and we will all return to our Maker. And she is experiencing life to the fullest as we speak in ways that we in our frail bodies can only imagine."

A robust, black woman with a deep, rich voice sang the hymn to close the service.

"Blest are the pure in heart,  
for they shall see our God;  
the secret of the Lord is theirs,  
their soul is Christ's abode.

The Lord, who left the heavens  
our life and peace to bring,  
to dwell in lowliness with men,  
their Pattern and their King;

Still to the lowly soul  
He doth himself impart  
and for His dwelling and His throne  
chooseth the pure in heart."

The funeral was well attended by strangers mostly made up from the freemen of John Meachum's church, but they'd no doubt attended Sister Ruth's revivals and so felt connected to her and to Kid.

They offered their condolences as they left.

One woman remarked to Ruth. "At least you still have one child."

They were well-meaning words intended to make her count her blessings, but people who'd never gone through it didn't understand. One child never replaced another. She was grateful for Mercy, but she should've had 2 daughters right now. There was a place in her heart that could never be filled by any child before or any child after. "Excuse me."

It was the politest thing Ruth could manage right now. She went up beside the gravestone and planted her knees in the soft earth and bent her head in prayer.

Kid continued to accept the condolences until it dwindled down to just the small Cole family. Kid thanked the reverend and promised they'd be there for services Sunday.

He held Mercy in his arms as they waited by the wagon for Ruth to be ready to go.

Mercy watched her with a furrowed brow, trying to make sense of her mother's weeping as if she hadn't known adults could cry before now least of all her parents, and she probably hadn't. She turned to him and asked, "Momma sad?"

"Yeah, Angel. Momma's sad," he answered in a thick voice.

Her dark blue eyes turned to study him and she put a chubby baby hand on his face. "Daddy sad?"

"Yes, baby."

"I sad." Then she gave him a hug.

She didn't understand what had happened not even a little bit, but she did understand what sadness looked like and felt like and she was trying to fix it with a way that had helped her in the past. Kid found it did help just a little bit.

Ruth stood up after a few more minutes. She beat the dirt off the front of her skirt and slowly walked over. Kid set Mercy on the ground, so he could help her into the wagon.

He took a gloved black hand and wrapped his other arm behind her for added support.

As she started to step up, her milk came in, causing more pain and discomfort. Her body hadn't gotten the message that her baby was gone and it set off a fresh batch of tears. "Oh, God, why are You doing this to me? Help me bear this."

Kid's eyes prickled as he repeated the last part of the prayer in his own head to God. Mercy waited by his side, clutching his pants, sensing it was too somber a day to go running off, exploring. He lifted Mercy in first and then climbed in after her.

One of the ladies had given Mercy a cookie. He took it out of his pocket now and peeled back the brown paper it was wrapped in. He gave it to her, so she could eat it on the ride back to the house.

Instead of immediately bringing it to her mouth like he'd expected, she turned to Ruth. "Cookie, Momma?"

Kid smiled tenderly. Mercy truly was special, doing her best to cheer them. What a sacrifice for one her age to give up such a special treat.

"No, sweetheart, you eat it," Ruth managed.

A child of nearly 2 didn't have to be told twice to eat a cookie.

Ruth looked back as they rolled away. The funeral had been hard, but leaving her behind was even harder.


	4. Chapter 4

Ruth made breakfast the next morning for Kid and Mercy, but she was hardly back to her old self. She normally talked and made jokes while she cooked and made up little rhymes for Mercy, but she was unnervingly silent, going through the motions of cooking like some kind of automaton.

Kid was worried for her but not overly so as they'd just buried their baby the day before. Time healed all wounds, he told himself, and he wasn't feeling chipper yet either. He compensated for the silence by keeping Mercy entertained through singing songs to her and playing a flying game that elicited her laughter.

When the food was ready, he held her in his lap while Ruth prepared her plate. Her face bore no emotion as she tore the biscuit into small pieces for Mercy to grab with her fingers. The scrambled eggs made for good finger food too, but the mush was another matter, so Ruth got a spoon and brought it up to Mercy's mouth after dipping it into the mush.

"I do it, Momma," Mercy declared.

Innocent words. She was simply exerting her independence, a thing she'd been doing a lot of lately, but it made Ruth feel less needed and reminded her of her loss.

Ruth's eyes welled up in a sudden burst of emotion and she hurried off to the bedroom.

Kid guided the spoon to Mercy's mouth while she grasped it since the pewter spoon was still a little too much for her to handle alone, but she was pleased with herself nonetheless. He encouraged her with words of praise. When the mush was gone, he put her on the floor with her plate to finish herself.

Kid waited at the bedroom door until the crying stopped and then he gently knocked.

"Come in," she called. She was drying her eyes when he opened the door. "I'm making a fool of myself, ain't I?"

"No, I wouldn't say that. Things'll get easier before you know it, but Mercy and I've decided it's a pretty day for walking. You want to go with us?" He was hoping she would say yes to his spur-of-the-moment idea. Some fresh air and a change in scenery would likely do her some good.

"No, thank you. I believe I'll stay in and do some reading."

He didn't need to ask her what it was she'd be reading and he hoped she was able to draw the comfort she needed so desperately from it. "Alright then. We won't be gone long."

Kid waited for Mercy to finish eating and ate his own breakfast, which was more because Ruth had fixed it for him than out of any appetite he felt.

The air outside was warm. It made Kid feel as if he could draw deep breaths and he did so without a single bout of coughing, making him glad winter was over.

"I walk," Mercy said.

Kid granted her request or more like her demand even though he had to slouch a bit to hold her hand. They didn't walk far, just up the street and back.

"You just got to keep putting one foot in front of the other," Kid said, more a reminder to himself than to Mercy.

Kid noticed there was a daffodil poking through the ground in the garden when they returned. It was the first flower he'd seen blooming this year. Hope. That's what it said to him. A physical symbol and reminder that there was such a thing as new life, seeing that the garden had appeared completely dead only the day before.

"What do you say we pick that for Momma?" He bent over and plucked it with his free hand. "This is a daffodil."

"Flower," she corrected.

He smiled as he snatched her up. "Yeah, it's a flower too. A pretty yellow flower."

"Purdy," Mercy agreed.

Kid tickled Mercy's chin with it, which brought forth giggles that were music to his ears and a balm to his soul.

They went straight to the bedroom to give Ruth their spring gift but found she'd fallen asleep. He was happy to see it. She'd only pretended to be asleep last night, but he'd known she was awake because he hadn't been able to sleep either.

"Shhh, Momma's sleeping," he warned, putting a finger over his lips.

"Shhh," she repeated.

He set her down at the doorway where she scampered off into the other room to play.

He went up to the sleeping Ruth where he took the Bible off her chest and placed it on the small table beside the bed. He set the daffodil on top of it, hoping it would be a pleasant sight for her when she woke. He carefully shifted her down so that her head was against the pillow and not the headboard. He put a feather-light kiss on her forehead and tiptoed out of the room.

Mercy had climbed on top of a kitchen chair and was very close to making the chair topple over. He quickly rescued her before she injured herself. In some ways, toddlers were more needy of a parent's care than an infant as leaving them alone for even a minute meant they were getting into things they weren't supposed to be getting into. Ruth would soon discover that Mercy still needed her even though she was about to turn the ripe old age of 2.


	5. Chapter 5

Every morning, it felt like it should all be a bad dream and at times it did feel as if none of it had really happened, but deep down past the fog that seemed to be enveloping her brain, she knew it had and that made it hard to even want to get out of bed.

Sunday had rolled around and she listened as Kid got dressed, the click of his boots across the floor, the rustling of his clothes, and the final snap of his gun belt.

"You ready for church?" he asked, knowing she was awake by the rate of her breathing.

"I just can't. Not today. Next Sunday."

Was she angry at God? He wouldn't blame her if she was, but she didn't seem to be. "I understand. We'll stay home with you then."

"No, you should take Mercy to church. If you go, you'll be able to tell me all about Reverend Meachum's sermon."

"Well, if you insist," he said, not sounding sure at all.

He shaved his morning growth off and then went to get Mercy ready.

He stopped by the bedroom again before leaving, placing Mercy down beside her. "Tell Momma bye."

She loved Mercy with all her heart, but Mercy's little arms thrown around her neck didn't fill her with the tenderness she expected or that she wanted. And when Kid kissed her goodbye, it didn't warm her insides even a little. She felt like something inside her was broken, not working right. Nonetheless, she managed a fake smile and told them to have a good time, which left her alone again with just the good Lord for company.

No longer did she feel overwhelmed with grief stabbing at her heart, which was a small blessing. Instead, she felt numb. She should feel sad right now and she felt guilty that she didn't. A part of her said life should be getting back to normal. Another part said it would be a dishonor to her baby's memory if she did.

"Oh, Lord, what's wrong with me? Make these feelings pass."

She forced herself into a dress. It would have seemed too lazy not to. Yet, she could barely gather the energy together to pull herself out of bed. When had a simple task become so monumental?

She could hear the church beside the parsonage striking up their opening hymn as Kid had left the window open. She wondered what hymn Kid and Mercy were listening to at Reverend Meachum's church right now.

_Sun of my soul, Thou Savior dear,  
It is not night if Thou be near;  
Oh, may no earthborn cloud arise  
To hide Thee from Thy servant's eyes._

She went out onto the porch to better hear it. She must have looked like a crazy person with her tangled hair hanging down and her bare feet, but she wanted to hear the unfamiliar hymn and no one else seemed to be around to see her.

_Abide with me from morn till eve,  
For without Thee I cannot live;  
Abide with me when night is nigh,  
For without Thee I dare not die._

It was suddenly too much, too close to what she was going through right now. She went back inside, back to the bedroom.

_Be every mourner's sleep tonight,  
Like infants' slumbers, pure and right._

Her eyes burned. She tried to shut the window against the gentle spring breeze that was still blowing the hymn in, but it stuck and she heard the ending line anyway.

_Till in the ocean of Thy love  
We lose ourselves in Heav'n above._

Tears spilled over as the window finally gave and she was able to shut it out too late. God seemed determined to speak to her whether she went to church or not. She was losing herself, but she wasn't sure it was in heaven's love.

It wasn't God she was pulling away from though. It was people she wasn't ready to face yet. It was life she didn't seem able to deal with anymore. This earthly life.

She had to force herself to open her Bible. Yet, she didn't seem to be able to concentrate on the meaning of the words she read. Why couldn't she concentrate on the words?

At last, she gave up in surrender and simply said, "Thank you, Jesus." It was probably one of the shortest prayers she'd ever prayed, but at least she'd prayed. She knew with her mind there was plenty to be thankful for even though her emotions didn't agree at the moment.

sss

Ruth was asleep again when they returned from church. It was beginning to seem like an avoidance tactic to Kid. It wasn't going to help her in the long run and he didn't like it, but he made himself practice patience he didn't feel. He would show love by fixing and bringing her lunch to her.

"Looks like Daddy's fixing lunch again," Kid said to Mercy.

The face Mercy made said she wasn't real thrilled with the way things were going either.

He chuckled. "I ain't that bad a cook. Anybody can boil beans." At least he was pretty sure that's all you did with beans.

He'd cooked for himself the few short years before Ruth came along. He'd just never gotten very good at it. But he'd survived on it. Mercy and Ruth would survive on it too.

Kid neglected prayer far too often, but he'd found himself praying more these past few days. He prayed for Ruth, Mercy, himself, and even for the beans.


	6. Chapter 6

Ruth had a fairly productive Monday despite it marking one week since the baby's birth and death. She'd gotten all 3 meals fixed and swept the floors. She'd seemed so uncaring about the tasks though, which wasn't like her at all. She enjoyed serving her family, but she was drawing little comfort from it now.

That night, Kid noticed she looked so small against the big bed, so fragile, and her skin was paler than usual. Dark circles surrounded her eyes, no doubt a symptom of her erratic sleep schedule.

He was struggling with his own grief. Differently maybe, but in private moments, he felt his heart was going to break. Watching Ruth struggle wasn't helping. They should be consoling one another as only a man and wife could.

"Mercy's asleep," he said, removing his shirt and pants before he lifted the sheet to join her.

"That's good." She didn't even turn to look at him.

He took her hand and traced the lines of her palm with his thumb. Then he lifted it to his mouth and laid a soft kiss there.

He stopped to gauge her reaction. She was watching him now. He couldn't quite read her expression, but she didn't try to pull her hand away. He took that as a good sign.

He turned her hand over and let his lips linger there as he soaked in her scent and the feel of his lips against her soft skin.

She wore only her linen nightgown and he unbuttoned the two little buttons at the top of it that gave him wider access to her neck and collarbone. He laid her hand on his pillow and moved closer to her to give that sensitive area his attention.

She moved her head back to allow entry, but she did little else. He started low and worked his way up.

"I love you," he whispered in her ear, his breath gently tickling her earlobe.

She moved the back of her hand against his rough jaw line, an expression of thanks and returned affection, but she didn't seem able to produce the words.

He positioned himself carefully over her and then hesitated, remembering that it took time for a woman to stop feeling sore after a delivery. "You don't still, uh, hurt, do you?"

She shook her head.

He relaxed and went back to touching and kissing her. She didn't protest, but she didn't respond either. She was like a rag doll, but that wasn't quite it, she was too stiff and tense to be a rag doll; she was more like a mannequin.

He kissed her softly but passionately on the lips, hoping to ease her tension, but even her kiss lacked its usual passion. Her arms were still by her side like she was resigned to it rather than welcoming it.

He knew she would let him make love to her, but he didn't want to take her like this. He wanted them both to want it or he'd feel terrible afterward.

"If you're not ready yet, you can tell me," he said gently, brushing her hair out of her face.

She scooted over at once, looking relieved and putting some distance between them. "I'm just tired. Maybe you could just hold me?"

He felt like the offer was more for his benefit than hers, a mere afterthought, but he opened his arms and she backed into them. He draped an arm across her waist. It wasn't being with her the way he wanted. He ached to be closer and to draw comfort from their union. Still this was nice too.

They stayed like that for a few minutes and then he broached a difficult question. He massaged light circles against her hip where his hand happened to be at the moment to show her that he wasn't upset. "You're thinking that you don't want another baby so soon, aren't you?"

"That might be some of it," she admitted. "But mostly it would just feel wrong now."

He stilled his hand in case she got the impression he was trying to make her do something she didn't want to do. Still, her words stung. How could loving each other ever be wrong? "I think another baby could help you to heal."

"Please, I can't talk about this right now."

"Okay. We can talk about it later." He'd never seen Ruth grieve this way and that scared him more than he cared to admit even to himself. She was becoming so withdrawn. He could count the number of times she had talked to him today on one hand.

The silence was so heavy. He felt he should withdraw his arm, but it was there now. He didn't want to act as if he were throwing away her olive branch.

"You must think I'm weak," she said, trying to laugh to show that she was really alright, but instead the forced laughter proved just the opposite.

"No, I'd never think that. I think you're the strongest person I know because your strength comes from the Lord. "

"I don't feel strong."

Kid's hope grew with that statement. This was progress. She was talking about her feelings. "But you are and you will. We'll get through this together as a family: you, me, Mercy, God. Together."

She was silent again. He prayed she believed what he'd just said and that she wasn't pulling away from them. He held her tighter and closer like a lifeline, so why did it feel like she was slipping away from his grasp?


	7. Chapter 7

John Meachum came to visit before the week was out. He came to see how they were doing.

Kid informed Ruth, who was still in bed though it was midmorning. Her Bible was open despite the fact that she didn't seem to be doing much reading of it unless she was thinking on what she'd just read. "It's Reverend Meachum."

"Did you invite him?" she asked, a distrustful look cast his way.

"No, he came on his own. You want me to send him away?"

"No, I'll be out just as soon as I get ready."

"We'll be waiting," he said, shutting the door back.

Ruth hurried to make herself presentable, dreading having a visitor like she'd never dreaded it before.

She sat down on the chair by Kid's a few minutes later though her subtle shift away him didn't go unnoticed by Kid. She was cutting herself off from him emotionally and physically and he had no idea why.

"We missed you at church," Reverend Meachum began.

"Thank you. I wanted to go, but...well, I was feeling bad."

He softened. "It wasn't an accusation, Sister Ruth. How are you holding up?"

She gathered the way the reverend was looking at her that Kid had already told him some things while she'd been getting ready. "Losing a child changes you."

"I'd agree with that and that change can be bad or good, depending on what a body lets it do. The trouble we face here on this earth has the potential of making us as followers of Christ spiritually stronger. And it can bring us closer to God though the thing in itself wasn't good."

She nodded.

"If you don't mind me saying, you're looking a mite peaked even for a white person. What you need is some sunshine, to get out for a little while. Do something fun."

"Maybe you're right, Reverend," Ruth said with a weary sigh.

Kid had been telling her the same exact thing, but sometimes it was easier hearing it from someone else. He didn't want to lose this window of opportunity. "How about now? Let's get out of the house."

"What about Mercy?" she asked, grasping for an excuse. "She looked like she was getting a cold yesterday. She shouldn't be out."

"You two go. I'll watch Mercy," the Reverend offered.

Ruth opened her mouth to try to come up with anther excuse but drew a blank. Kid hustled her out the door before she thought of something after giving the reverend quick instructions on where everything was and when she went down for a nap.

"So what do you want to do?" Kid asked her. She looked a little blinded by the sun and he pulled the bonnet on her head forward some.

"I don't know. What do you want to do?"

She loved riding and Grace and Horse no doubt needed some exercise. "How about we go riding?"

She gave a listless nod, not the spark of interest he'd hoped for, but he'd take it.

Half an hour later, they were in a lovely, wild field outside St. Louis. They started off at a gentle trot, but the trot didn't last long.

Ruth began riding Grace at a break-necking speed as if she were trying to outrun her grief. He and Horse had trouble keeping up. The field ran out and became white and pink-bloomed trees, but that didn't slow her down. She jumped over any fallen limbs that barred her path.

Kid gasped in horror when he rounded a curve. "Ruth!"

A tree had been newly uprooted probably during the recent thunderstorm, making it too high a jump, but Ruth was still charging foward. She appeared not to hear him calling. He'd never catch up with her in time to stop her.

Then, as if an angel barred the path or the horse had more sense than her rider, Grace stopped and Ruth was able to hang on.

Her recklessness scared a good 10 years off his life. It was like she didn't really care whether she lived or died.

He rode up next to her. "What in heaven's name is wrong with you?"

"I don't know what came over me. I just wasn't thinking, I guess."

"You guess?" he asked angrily. He forced himself to take deep breaths. "This was a bad idea. Let's just go back. I'm sure Reverend Meachum's regretting volunteering to watch Mercy anyway."

He took Grace's reins as they turned the horses around like she was a new rider that couldn't be trusted to handle the horse alone.

Ruth wasn't angry about it though. She knew she deserved it after almost getting herself thrown off and maybe even managing to hurt the mare in the process. She could tell by the way he was looking at her that he thought she had been trying to take her own life.

That wasn't it. It had just felt nice to put all her energy into riding. The speed and the jumping had required her total focus and it had made her able to push out all the other negative thoughts circling in her head however briefly. She didn't have a death wish beyond simply looking forward to heaven.

Still, she realized she was being unfair to those who loved her. She was going to try and be a better mother to Mercy and a better wife to Kid. She realized she was failing miserably in those departments right now. She wasn't even sure she could take care of herself anymore.

_Oh, God. Help._ It felt as if she were sinking deep into a mire and the more she struggled to get out, the deeper she sank.


	8. Chapter 8

Mercy had thick hair like her mother though it was barely shoulder length and it was snarled every morning. She was patient for one so young, but Kid's doing the brushing often end up in tears for Mercy, and him too if he wanted to be honest.

The humidity that was gathering for the coming rain made it frizzier and even more tangled than usual. That should have been a warning to him about how the day was going to go.

"If it was up to me, we'd cut it all off, but your mother would kill me," he said in way of apology when he was finished setting it to right.

As he washed up the breakfast dishes later that morning, he noticed it was quiet. Too quiet. That was never a good sign when Mercy was awake anymore. It meant she was too occupied to be engaged in regular play.

He dried his hands on his pants as he hurried to see what it was this time. He found her in the living room.

She'd taken off with the basket of eggs without his noticing and sat in the middle of the floor breaking them open and playing with the resulting mess. The yolk was all in her hair. In fact, she seemed to be enjoying rubbing it into her hair like it was some kind of soap.

She was going to need a bath and the sooner the better, which meant he was going to be brushing her hair all over again. "Mercy, why? Why?"

She looked up at him the picture of innocence. And in truth, she had no idea what she'd done. She was only exploring the world though that exploration led to trouble more often than not.

He separated her from the basket before she broke the few eggs left. Boy, was she a mess, he realized afresh with her in his arms. The egg goop was getting on his clothes now, which meant more laundry. The situation would be a little funny if not for the added work it was going to cause him, not to mention the loss of the eggs.

He was in the process of carrying her to the wooden tub they used for dishes and laundry for her bath when he thought of Ruth. She might like to see this first.

He opened the bedroom door. "Take a look at your daughter."

Ruth looked up and smiled a small smile at the sight. It wasn't a deep belly-aching laugh like it might have been before, but it was probably the first real smile he'd seen on her since their loss. Mercy could crack open a 100 more eggs if it'd make Ruth smile again.

The smile flitted away as quickly as it had appeared. "She'll need a bath, won't she? Can you take care of it? I've got to get these letters written."

He wasn't fooled. Maybe she was writing letters, but it wasn't so pressing that it came above everything else. It was another way to hide. "I was planning on it. I just wanted to show you what you're missing."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. Just write your letters."

Later, sometime after dinner, he was sweeping up the mess he'd made in the kitchen. There was flour all over the floor, as a matter of fact fact, he wouldn't be surprised if more had made it onto the floor than into the bowl. Though he'd ended up with biscuits in the end, it was clear his talents didn't lay in the kitchen.

He sighed when he saw there were bits of dough stuck to the wall. How did Ruth cook without making a mess? It was as big a mystery to him as how to comb a little girl's hair.

His broom stopped midsweep. Again there was that telling quiet, so he went to investigate.

This time he found brightly colored yarn unraveled and thrown everywhere like a giant spider web, not one of the pretty ones, but a messy cobweb, and Mercy was wrapped up in some of it not unlike a caught fly.

He hoped Ruth didn't have any plans to knit anytime soon. It would take days to get all the yarn detangled, he thought to himself as he freed Mercy.

"I guess we need to do a better job of putting up things you shouldn't be messing with, huh?"

He looked down at the pile of tangled yarn again and then sighed. "You're not making this very easy on your daddy."

"I sorry."

He smiled. It wasn't possible to stay annoyed after so adorable an apology. "You're lucky you're cute, but I think somebody's ready for bed."

2 big disasters and countless little ones in just one day from messy diapers to spilled bath water. This was fast becoming tiresome after 2 weeks. He felt dead on his feet. He couldn't do it all though he knew some parents did after they'd lost a spouse, but he hadn't lost his. And they were getting low on funds. He needed to go find some odd jobs or a reward poster. Ruth need to help more out more.

He could give her a few more days to collect herself and then what? Truth was he had no idea what to do if she didn't get it together, but something had to be done. Something had to give. And soon.


	9. Chapter 9

It was Easter Sunday. If that didn't make Ruth want to get out of bed and go to church, nothing would.

"I'm not feeling well," she mumbled into her pillow when he asked if she was going.

He felt her forehead. "You don't feel hot."

"Well, I still feel bad."

Kid hadn't pressed her to talk about it. He hadn't much wanted to talk about it either. He hated emotional confrontations and talking about feelings, but he hated seeing her this way even more. "How long you going to stay in bed? The rest of your life?"

"I don't know."

"Blast it all!" She didn't even flinch at his cursing, not that it had been his intention to make her do so, but he softened his plea anyway. "Mercy and I need you. We're still here. You're still here. It's high time you start acting like it."

She sat up and faced him, looking wounded. "You think I'm doing this on purpose? That I'm choosing this? I'd love to feel like getting up. I just don't."

"Cause you're thinking gloomy thoughts. Of course, you're going to feel gloomy if all your thoughts are gloomy."

"I am and I can't stop them. They just keep repeating themselves. I want to stop them, but I can't. It's not as simple as thinking happier thoughts. I try and the dark thoughts creep in anyway. It feels beyond my control."

Kid didn't understand why she couldn't banish them, but he wanted to know more about it. "What are these thoughts? Maybe I can help."

Her arms folded across her chest and she seemed to shrink. "Well, for one, it should have been me."

"You mean you that died? That's an easy one. No, it shouldn't have. And leave Mercy without a mother? Leave 2 little girls to a man dying of consumption? Does that sound right to you?"

"How can you be so cruel?" she asked, tearing up. "Are you saying you would rather our baby have died?"

"You expect me to not be glad that you're the one who lived?" he asked angrily. "Well, I am glad. I thank God it wasn't you and if that's a sin so be it. Maybe I'd feel differently if we'd known her longer, but I don't think so. I'd give my life for my children, but I wouldn't give yours. Maybe it does make me selfish that I don't want to live without you, but it's the truth."

"You don't understand. I did know her. I felt her kicking and playing and growing inside me. I had dreams and hopes for her. Now they're gone. She's gone. I can't just get over that as easily as you want me to. It ain't right for a child to die before a parent. It ain't natural."

He knocked over the nearby vase in anger, finding the shattering satisfying. "And I didn't have any hopes or dreams for her? I wasn't a part of her life while you carried her? Is that it? She was my child too! You don't think I grieve too?"

"I didn't say that." Her voice was calmer, more controlled. She wasn't afraid of his anger because she knew he only abused objects in the height of anger, not people.

"No, but you're thinking it."

It was true that she was upset that he didn't seem to be grieving as hard as she was.

"I'm grieving just as much even though I'm not languishing here in bed," he said loudly. "I'm scared, Ruth. I've never seen you like this. Are you even praying anymore?"

"You think I'm not? I pray every day." Every word made her voice raise higher in volume. "Every day. And the days are just getting harder. So what does that mean? You think you have all the answers. What does it mean!"

"I don't know, but I know this ain't helping. If you'd just get up and go to church at least. You'd feel better. I know you would. I love you with every breath in me. Mercy loves you. The people at church love you. God loves you more than all of us combined. Isn't that reason enough to get up? To go on?" His words didn't move her. He'd poured his heart out to her in the course of the argument and she looked like stone. "It's like I don't even know who you are anymore!"

That wasn't what she wanted to hear. He was confirming the fear she had that she was somehow losing herself. He stepped closer, but she shouted, " Get the devil away from me. Get out of this room!"

He was shocked. She wasn't speaking of the devil in the literal sense for once. It was the first time he had ever heard Ruth swear. Ever. It was such a departure from her normal personality that he obeyed immediately.

He was confused as he stood outside the door and a little hurt. It wasn't how he expected the confrontation to go, but the argument had gotten some things out into the open. That had to be good. So why then did everything feel so terribly wrong?


	10. Chapter 10

Ruth was ashamed. At least they hadn't woken up Mercy, who wasn't used to her parents yelling and probably would have cried to hear it. She and Kid argued plenty, but typically there was a playful edge to it or one of them backed down quickly before it got out of hand, usually Kid, who left to cool off. This time had been uglier.

She asked forgiveness from God for her less than gracious words. Kid was right; she didn't know who she was anymore either, but it wasn't somebody she liked.

Her eyes fell on the wardrobe. She got up and looked inside it. Her revival robe was hanging in it. It seemed to belong to another person in another lifetime. She had no idea how to be that person anymore, the strong, happy person whose purpose was helping others find the kind of faith she'd found in the Lord. She wished she did.

She took it down and balled it up. She stuffed it into the trunk, not wanting to see the painful, mocking reminder of who she used to be. Not that she went into the wardrobe much these days.

She sat back down on the bed, her momentary burst of energy gone.

She thought of Kid again. She wasn't blind. She'd seen how he was keeping things running without her help. She knew he wasn't having an easy time of it and he wouldn't have been doing it in the first place if he didn't love her, if hadn't been trying to give her healing time.

He had only been trying to help even when he said things that had hurt. Love, not the lack of it, had prompted the argument. And she loved him too. She knew it, but she didn't seem able to feel it anymore. She didn't know if she ever would again.

Kid didn't knock when he came in with her lunch. Maybe he figured she wouldn't have let him come in if he had. He set the bowl and cup down on the nightstand and left just as wordlessly.

Beans again. God bless him. He was trying. There wasn't much else he knew how to fix. However, it could have been food fit for a king and she wouldn't have cared. She could see the beans were overdone, but she couldn't taste them. She was eating because she knew she had to, but she had no appetite.

She brought out her dirty dishes to the kitchen. Then she forced herself into starting a good Easter supper. A task she accomplished 4 hours later, no small feat. She hoped it communicated that she was sorry.

Total silence engulfed them through the meal other than the prayer of thanks she'd given before it. It was if they both feared that one little word would cause another explosive argument.

As Ruth was clearing the table with help from Kid, Mercy ran into one of the chairs, bumping her knee in the process. The resulting crack sounded painful. She didn't cry though, she just ran to her father for comfort. He pulled her into his lap with soothing words and looked at her knee. It was only skinned. He took her mind off it with a game of "this little piggy".

Kid had been her sole caregiver the past 3 weeks. It was only natural she would run to him first, especially since he was closer. And if she had come to her, Ruth wasn't sure she would've known what to do anymore. She felt as if she could do anything right. And what good was she if she couldn't dole out simple reassure to a child with a skinned knee, her own child?

She managed to finish cleaning up the kitchen and then she went back to bed. She wasn't disturbed until Kid joined her that night.

She found she was too tense to sleep with Kid laying right beside her. He wasn't doing anything, not touching her or even facing her, but it was more than she seemed able to bear.

And her mind was so busy. She'd heard the midwife tell her the death wasn't her fault, but she still felt guilty about it and she wondered if Kid didn't secretly blame her for losing their child. He certainly didn't understand her crippling grief. She wasn't sure she understood it either.

The room felt suddenly suffocating. She struggled to breathe. She got up to crack the window open, hoping the cool night air would help.

She had a strong desire to leave in that moment. To run away from it all, from Kid and Mercy and even the little baby buried in the churchyard. From the pain. It felt as if they would all be better off if she did. Those few freeing moments on the horse had been nice.

Of course, she could never outrun God, not in this life or the next. It was normally a comforting thought to her, but now it just seemed to overwhelm her. This was more than regular grief and she knew it.

She slipped a dress on over her nightgown, not bothering with her corset or even her buttons. She tugged on her shoes. She took nothing else with her, not even her Bible, and she started to head for the door.

"Where you going?" he asked, his voice slicing through the silence.

Her heart stopped. How could he know? He couldn't know what she'd been thinking. "To the outhouse," she lied.

He didn't ask her why she was stumbling through the dark to go to the outhouse instead of using the chamber pot and she didn't wait around for him to.

She stopped when she reached the outhouse. She sank to the ground in a crumpled heap and cried. She wasn't going to run away. At least not tonight. Deep in her heart she knew running away wasn't the answer.


	11. Chapter 11

Kid couldn't say why he was relieved when he heard the front door open again. He'd never really doubted that she would come back, but something in her step had made him unsettled and a still small voice had told him to ask where she was going.

He said nothing as he watched her take her dress and shoes back off and get back into bed.

"I love you," he said as she laid down beside him. He was reminding her of it frequently lately, but it was times like these when people needed to be reminded that they were loved. And did anyone ever really tire of hearing it?

"And I love you," she returned. The words lacked her usual depth of feeling, but it was the first time she'd said it in weeks and he was overjoyed to hear them.

He could also hear that she'd been crying. He didn't know whether to hold her or not. The old Ruth would have loved a comforting embrace, but now she seemed to find touch uncomfortable.

He compromised by seeking her hand out underneath the covers. It communicated love without being too intimidating or so he hoped.

She didn't reject the gesture and they fell asleep holding hands.

sss

She got up the next day around midmorning, but she left her hair down and had a general sloppy appearance. And she was back in bed by the middle of the afternoon.

He had to do something more. Something to lift her from her deep sadness. He looked around for inspiration and his eyes lighted on his guitar.

He could play for her and hope it would soothe her soul and uplift her spirit like music had done for King Saul. He was no David maybe, but music could be healing.

He knew the perfect hymn too. He wasted no time in tuning it and though he could tell it was still a little off when he was through, he was too eager to play to wait for it to be perfect. He sat on the corner of the bed and began.

"Jesus, Lover of My Soul, let me to Thy bosom fly;  
While the nearer waters roll, while the tempest still is high.  
Hide me, O my Savior, hide, till the storm of life is past;  
Safe into the haven guide; O receive my soul at last."

A tear rolled down her cheek. He hoped that meant she was listening to the words. The words were bringing tears of his own to his eyes as he thought about their baby girl.

"Other refuge have I none, hangs my helpless soul on Thee;  
Leave, ah! leave me not alone, still support and comfort me.  
All my trust on Thee is stayed, all my help from Thee I bring;  
Cover my defenseless head with the shadow of Thy wing."

His voice was quivering with emotion. He'd been holding back some of his feelings over losing their little daughter to be strong for her and now he was finding release through the song.

The verse was a reminder of where he had to turn to now. For as much as he loved his wife, his helpmeet, it was God who would see him through this dark hour, who would see the both of them through it. While they could grow together through this experience, they couldn't find refuge in each other; they weren't strong enough for it. That was God's job.

"Wilt Thou not regard my call? Wilt Thou not accept my prayer?  
Lo! I sink, I faint, I fall—Lo! on Thee I cast my care;  
Reach me out Thy gracious hand! While I of Thy strength receive,  
Hoping against hope I stand, dying, and behold, I live."

He was telling her that even though he didn't fully know what she was going through other Christians had been where she was: still praying when things seemed totally hopeless, but doubting whether God was even hearing them. And they'd found life, light at the end of the tunnel. God didn't stay silent forever. Dark times did eventually pass.

"Thou, O Christ, art all I want, more than all in Thee I find;  
Raise the fallen, cheer the faint-"

"Stop. I know what you're trying to do, but it's not working."

"I just don't know what to do, Ruth. What can I do?"

"I wish I knew. Lord Above, I wish I knew."

He left her alone because that seemed to be what she wanted. He knew couldn't save her from this. It was bigger than him. It was bigger than her. But it wasn't bigger than God. And he prayed that God would show him what he could do for her.

Ruth could hear him playing "Amazing Grace" softly in the next room. Most likely for Mercy but probably for her too.

Kid's voice and playing normally made her melt into a puddle. And when her husband sang a spiritual song, it spoke to her in an even deeper way, to her very soul. But not even music seemed able to pierce her heart and soul now.


	12. Chapter 12

April 26th, the one month anniversary, Ruth reflected. How had the time passed so quickly with every day feeling so excruciatingly long?

The curtains were drawn, leaving the room dark though it was somewhere around noon. She had neither the energy nor the inclination to get up and change that, but when Kid came in to check on her, he opened it, blinding her with the afternoon light.

"It's a pretty day outside. You know the weather's warm enough to travel, don't you? When you planning on moving on? You been wanting to go further southwest for some time."

That was before, she wanted to say. "Why has the church said anything about us leaving?"

"No, I just figured maybe you'd be ready to get back to traveling the circuit, sharing the good news." His tone was unnaturally bright.

"Well, I'm not. And I'm not sure when I will be."

Kid was more shocked than he'd been when he'd heard her swear. "Are you saying you're done with the revival?"

"I'm saying I can't think about the future when I can't even think about today."

Concern, an expression that he wore quite often now, stared back at her. He wanted to say something to her, she could tell, but he looked unsure.

"What?" she asked, sounding a little short with him. She regretted the terse word immediately and tried again. "What's on your mind?"

"You need to get out. See people. Even if it's just for a little while. You can't just draw up into a shell. It's not healthy and it's not who you are."

She forced a deep breath. "Maybe you're right. We don't hardly know anybody here though other than the reverend and I'm sure he's busy, but I'll see if I can't strike up a conversation with somebody new."

"I'm sure you can." Ruth was gifted at making conversation with strangers usually about God. He truly believed it'd make her feel like her old self to talk with somebody, anybody about anything. "And you don't have to do it alone. Just let me get Mercy's bonnet."

"No. I think I want to go alone if you don't care."

He did care. Why was she pushing him away? "Oh, well okay."

She got dressed and even took her Bible with her, which Kid found encouraging. Maybe she even planned to evangelize.

sss

Ruth handed out strained smiles and made eye contact with the people she passed. Most people smiled back, but she didn't take it any further than that.

She wasn't quite sure she knew where she was going until she found herself there. In the churchyard.

This wasn't what Kid had meant when he said to get out and see people, she knew. She only felt more morose here.

She looked to the Bible in her hands. It was important to praise God at all times. She didn't have the words, but she held the book that did, so she turned to Psalm 145 and read it out loud though she was the only one in the cemetery.

"I will extol Thee, my God, O King; and I will bless Thy name for ever and ever. Every day will I bless Thee; and I will praise Thy name for ever and ever. Great is the Lord, and greatly to be praised; and His greatness is unsearchable... Thy saints shall bless Thee. They shall speak of the glory of Thy kingdom, and talk of Thy power; To make known to the sons of men His mighty acts, and the glorious majesty of His kingdom is an everlasting kingdom, and Thy dominion endureth throughout all generations... The Lord is nigh unto all them that call upon Him, to all that call upon Him in truth. He will fulfil the desire of them that fear Him: He also will hear their cry, and will save them... My mouth shall speak the praise of the Lord: and let all flesh bless His holy name for ever and ever."

A peace descended on her. It had taken work to force herself to read it and even more work to mean the words it contained. But she did believe every word of it. She didn't necessarily feel every word of it in the heavy blanket of her grief. The world and its trials could steal her happiness, but it couldn't steal her joy for that was eternal.

The melancholy returned full force on the way back, however. She wasn't surprised. It seemed par for the course anymore.

She passed a sign that read "St. Louis Association for the Relief of Orphaned Children". The orphanage was a charming building surrounded by trees for the children to play in. She saw a few children playing outside now.

Inspiration struck. She'd made a quilt and some clothes for the new baby. It seemed fitting to give them to a baby without parents from parents without a baby. Perhaps she would feel some closure if she did and possibly doing something for others again would help to lift some of her sadness.

She burst into the house and went straight to the things. Before she left to give them away, however, she realized it was only fair that she ask Kid. He was the father.

He'd heard her enthusiastic entrance and was now in front of her. "What's going on?"

"I want to give these away to a baby who could use them. Is that alright with you?"

He eyed the beautiful quilt and the white gowns tenderly and then looked up at her. "I think that's a wonderful idea."

She gave a sigh of relief. "Great. I'll be back in a little bit."

The orphanage was just a few minutes away. A kindly-looking woman answered the door. Ruth handed her the things without ceremony. "Could you use these?"

"Well, of course. We never know when a baby will be dropped off here. Thank you."

"No, thank you," Ruth said. Then she left rather abruptly because she didn't want to be asked about the circumstances surrounding the unexpected gift.

She felt good about what she'd just done but not as good as she'd hoped. She knew it'd been the right thing to do though and she didn't regret doing it.

This melancholy wasn't going to go away in a day, she reminded herself, but it felt like she was taking steps in the right direction. "Lord, I trust in You. See me through this."


	13. Chapter 13

"I got a job helping build a small mercantile for a man named Lemp," Kid announced to Ruth a few days later. He'd seen she was working harder to fight the melancholy, forcing herself to do the cooking and housework, and he figured she might be ready to watch Mercy again too. "It ain't much money, but he's a grocer, so he'll be giving us food free the next couple weeks."

"That sounds good."

"Which means, of course, you'll have to watch Mercy."

She wanted to protest being left alone with her, but how could she? She wasn't doing anything to help bring in money now. And what was there to be afraid of?

"Let me know if you decide you want me to look for something long term."

Did she? She couldn't imagine herself going back out on the circuit, but she couldn't imagine staying here in St. Louis forever either.

She watched Kid leave with a pounding heart and sweaty palms.

sss

Adam Lemp was a slight man with a small, carefully-trimmed beard and a serious air. He generally turned his w's into v's and his th's sounded more like z's, but he wasn't so difficult for Kid to understand. He'd obviously been working on his English for a while.

He and Kid put in a good day's work. It wouldn't take but a few more days to have everything built. They sat on wooden stools resting in front of the unfinished store.

"We worked hard today," Mr. Lemp said.

"Yes, sir, we did."

"Please, just call me Adam."

"Adam. Didn't I see a dog this morning?" Kid asked, looking around for it.

"Ja. He comes often home but he goes out much too." He got up and poured two drinks.

Kid couldn't tell what it was until he brought it close. "No, thank you. I'll stick to water."

"You do not like?" he asked, eyeing the beer for the perceived imperfection.

"Oh, I like. That's mostly the problem."

"Ah," he said, sitting the extra beer down and drinking on his own.

"My wife's the other part of it. I wouldn't mind just taking a taste every now and then, but she'd mind if I did. Got to keep the peace, you know? And there was a time when I let my drinking get out of hand, so it's better this way, God knows. It smells real nice though. And I've never seen a beer so golden in color."

"My father taught me the recipe. I'm hoping it will sell gut. Take some of my vinegar then und if you change your mind about the beer, let me know."

He grinned. "Vinegar sound real nice. Maybe I can talk my wife into making a vinegar pie. You married?"

"Ja. I have a son in Germany. I miss them, but I can't afford to bring them to St. Louis until my business is doing gut. My son's almost 2. I haven't seen him since he was a baby."

"I have a daughter that age."

"How nice. Just the one child?"

An innocent question but one that hurt. "Yeah, just the one, but I have hopes our family'll grow."

sss

Mercy had discovered the art of drumming and apparently she loved it for that's all she wanted to do. The spoon in her hand had become a nonstop noisemaker.

Ruth tried to ignore it and just keep on sweeping, but she had a terrible headache and each pound of the spoon made it hurt more. And it had been a long day.

"Mercy, can you please just stop for 5 minutes?"

Mercy continued to bang unabashedly, but the direction had been rather long and unclear for her age level, so Ruth tried again. "Mercy, stop."

This time there was no mistaking it. Mercy was ignoring her as she was enjoying her drumming too much to want to listen.

"Mercy!" she yelled sharply.

Mercy broke out into tears having never been yelled at before and so did Ruth.

Ruth sank to the floor. She was a terrible mother. Maybe it was just as well that God hadn't given her another child. Where was the anger coming from? The despair? She wanted to go back to the feeling nothing part. That hadn't felt great either, but at least she hadn't been hurting anybody. Why didn't she have better control over her emotions?

She looked up with blurry eyes to her crying daughter, who was still frozen with the spoon in her hand. She felt such immense guilt. She tried to fix it by holding out her arms and calling for her, "Come here, honey."

Mercy slowly came toward her very unsurely, but she did come. Ruth wrapped her arms around her and pulled her into her lap. "I'm sorry, baby. Momma loves you."

That's the way Kid found them on the floor with tear-streaked faces though Mercy had fallen asleep.

He didn't ask questions right away but took Mercy to put her in bed.

It was like she took 1 step forward and 2 steps back. She wanted to curl up into a ball and that's how she was sitting when Kid returned.

He joined her on the kitchen floor. "You want to talk about it?"

She shook her head. "I ain't fit to be left alone with her. I yelled at her."

He put a hand on her back. "Hey, don't be so hard on yourself. Mercy's fine. You're still getting back into your routine. It'll get easier, I promise."

That was just it. It wasn't getting easier. And she wasn't sure it ever would.

**Author's Note: Adam Lemp was a real historical figure.**


	14. Chapter 14

He left her alone again with Mercy. She'd known he would, but didn't he see that she just wasn't capable anymore?

She looked over at her daughter, who was playing with her lunch more than she was eating it. Though she had recovered from being yelled at, she didn't bang her spoon today, which made Ruth feel terrible.

She opened the oven door. The pie was a lovely golden brown, so she took the thick towels and pulled the pie pan out of the oven. She hated the smell of vinegar, but it did lend itself to making a nice custard-like pie and it'd be great for cleaning too.

Mercy took a nap after lunch and the day continued to drag slowly by.

Ruth noticed when it was over an hour after the time he'd come home yesterday. She wouldn't have blamed Kid if he decided never to come back. She hadn't exactly made their homelife joyful. But he came through the door not long after.

"Where were you?" Ruth asked before he could utter a greeting.

There was accusing suspicion laced in her voice that surprised him. "Some elderly lady wanted me to hang a shelf for her. She paid in cash." He held up the money just in case she didn't believe him.

"So of course you just had to stay late and do it right then."

"Would you rather we starve to death?"

"No, but I'd rather you be here. You're staying away on purpose, aren't you? You don't want to be near me."

"Why would you think that?" he asked angrily. "Haven't I shown I love you by taking care of the house and Mercy? Haven't I told you I love you enough times? I'm showing it now by providing for our family."

"Don't make excuses. You blame me for being this way, don't you? Even for losing the baby?"

"I don't!" He ran the heal of his palm across his forehead in sheer frustration and blew out air in an effort to release some of the inner pressure he felt. "I don't know how much longer I can take this."

"Then go. Get out. I don't need you!" She punctuated the last remark with the slamming of the bedroom door.

She'd did it again, she reflected when she was alone. Argued with Kid when she really didn't want to. He had bore up under it tolerably well, which made her feel worse. Why did she keep hurting the people she loved? She'd always had a temper, but this was out of hand.

"Heal me," she begged, but once again there was no immediate result from the prayer. It was a cruel joke. A faith healer who hadn't been able to heal her baby, who couldn't heal her husband, and now couldn't even get healing herself. What good was she?

She felt so alone. She couldn't even feel God anymore and that made her angry and even more depressed. "Where are You? Why are You hiding Your face from me?" For that's what it felt like and maybe her anger at Kid being late had really been anger with God for fear He'd abandoned her.

"Take my life," she pleaded at the end of her rope. "Or help me live with this one."

She cried herself to sleep in the silence.

sss

Kid slept in Mercy's room that night because he didn't want to add to Ruth's anguish. He knew he hadn't said the right words to ease her fears, but he did pray for her.

It was a Sunday the next morning and he wasn't surprised when she didn't come out of her room. He'd expected it, in fact. He and Mercy didn't go to church because he knew Ruth wouldn't.

Sometime in the afternoon, there was a knock at the door. It was the midwife come to visit.

"I don't know if Sister Ruth'll want to see you," Kid explained. Just cause you'd be a painful reminder to her, not because she didn't appreciate everything you did and tried to do."

"Reverend Meachum told me she hasn't come to church the past few Sundays. He thought maybe I could be of help since I'm a woman. And not only that, but I do more than just deliver babies. If there's a medical problem, I might be able to help."

"It's not a medical problem. Her spirits are just low."

"Let me just try speaking with her. I won't stay if I'm not welcome."

Kid didn't see what good it would do, but he knocked on the bedroom door and called, "Ms. Harriet's here to visit a spell. Can she come in?"

Ruth said yes, more out of politeness than desire to see her Kid figured, but they went in. She was dressed but only because it didn't look as if she'd ever changed out of them. They were uncharacteristically wrinkly.

"How do you feel?" the midwife asked.

"I've felt better," she answered with a grim smile.

"Be honest with me. I want to know everything."

Ruth looked to Kid and then sighed deeply. She didn't see how it would help to tell her everything, but what did she have to lose? Maybe if she explained everything in more detail, Kid would at least understand more of what she was going through.

The midwife listened with sympathy to her and then said, "It doesn't help that you're mourning, but even women who still have their baby with them go through what you're going through."

"Really?" Ruth asked. She'd never heard tell of it before, but she supposed many women didn't care to admit to melancholia for fear of judgment. She knew the feeling. She'd tried to hide it too.

"And I think it's as dangerous as influenza and that medicine can help."

"You have medicine that helps this?" Kid asked, astonished.

"I do. It's called St. John's Wort. It's good for nervous disorders, and it can be made into a tea."

Ruth was hesitant to take it. She hardly ever took medication. She wasn't opposed to it per se, but she always went to the Lord first and that had always been enough before for her adult life thus far. "How strong is it?"

"It's just a plant, a simple herb. I've never known people who were not able to stop taking it if they wanted to if that's what's worrying you."

Still, she hesitated.

"You haven't failed," Kid said practically reading her mind. "God uses many ways to help us. Maybe this is the way He's answering your prayer this time. And you know, it takes faith to trust that God's provided you a way out with St. John's Wort too."

It wasn't a sin to use medicine, she knew that. St. Luke himself had been a physician and the good Lord had made the plant with the properties to heal.

Ruth nodded and looked at the midwife. "I'd like to try it."

Ms. Harriet looked pleased and went straight to the kitchen to turn it into tea.

"It's very earthy tasting," Ruth commented after taking a sip.

"A polite way of saying it tastes like dirt," the midwife said with a chuckle. "I know it does. It's supposed to, but it will help despite its unpleasantness."

"How long will I have to drink this?" Ruth wanted to know.

"I'd take it a few months at least. Then wean yourself off it and see how you feel, but you should feel a difference in just a few days, so don't let that fool you into thinking you don't need it anymore."

Ms. Harriet also coupled the tea with prayer for which Ruth was glad. She didn't feel she had the strength for praying, but now she did have the tiniest spark of hope that the Lord wasn't going to leave her like this.


	15. Chapter 15

To Ruth's surprise but happiness, the St. John's Wort did seem to help. Before the week was over, she was feeling much better.

She snuck up behind Kid and threw her arms around him and gave him a kiss to the cheek with an exaggerated smacking sound.

Kid smiled, not just because he was happy that the physical affection between them had returned but because she was having fun. "It's good to see you happy again."

"It's good to feel happy again." He pulled her around and into his lap. "I'm sorry. I never did apologize for not being there for you in the way I should have been. How are you feeling?"

"Better. Every day seems just a little easier. And hey listen, I never blamed you for any of it. I didn't understand all of it, but I knew you weren't yourself."

"Well, thank you for being there for me the way I needed. You know I thank God that He sent you my way, don't you?" She suddenly switched topics and got up from his lap. "Come listen to something."

He followed her into the bedroom. Mercy did too and they both watched as Ruth got his guitar out. "I wrote my first song. I want you to hear it."

He'd heard her strumming on it the past couple of days. He just hadn't known what she was doing.

"When your sinking in a mire of grief  
It can seem like you've lost your way  
Like your hope and faith and belief  
Never really had any sway

But He turns and hears your cry  
And through Him you find solid ground  
For He is the Lord God Most High  
And His grace abounds

When I wait He delivers  
So I will sing this hymn of praise  
As joyful tears run like rivers  
And this new song raise."

Mercy applauded.

"I realize now He's always been with me even when I couldn't feel Him," Ruth said, "and I wanted a way to thank Him. I believe I'd better stick to preaching and healing though, but it was fun writing it."

"I think it was just fine. Sounded familiar."

"It's based on a Bible verse."

"The best hymns are. Which one?"

She didn't need to open her Bible to recite the verse to him as she'd read it so many times the past couple of days. It so perfectly described what God had done for her.

"I waited patiently for the LORD; He turned to me and heard my cry. He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; He set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand. He put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of praise to our God."

sss

It was the middle of May. Ruth had received a letter from a friend on the American Board of Foreign Missions, who knew her desire to begin heading deeper into the territory to less populated areas. It suggested one region in particular where her gifts would be sorely needed. And there was no need to linger here anymore, so that's where they were headed.

Before they left, they stopped by the churchyard one last time.

Ruth felt sad as she gazed at the inscription. Until she was reunited with her youngest daughter, the memory of her would probably always be bittersweet. But the sadness wouldn't overtake her, her life here would be an act of worship.

A wild, orange lily was growing by the gravestone. "Look at the wildflower," Ruth said. "It's like God put it there just for our baby."

"You want to press it into your Bible for a remembrance?"

"No, leave it. I like thinking of there being something bright and cheery, something that'll return every year." Her eyes took on a faraway look. "Remember when you first found out I was having her?"

Kid smiled as they remembered the happy memory together.

_Kid put Mercy, who was bundled up fatter than a well-fed tic, between them to keep her as warm as possible and stave off the cool, fall night._

_"You are such a good father," Ruth said._

_"Thanks," he said only half listening as he double-checked that the quilt was tucked around Mercy._

_"In fact, I want you to be the father of all my children," she said with a grin, wondering if that would get his attention._

_"Thanks," he said again. Then he truly processed what she'd said and he looked up at her. "Does that mean what I think it means?" _

_"Yep, we're going to have another baby," she said with a full smile._

_She watched as sheer delight grew in his expression, delight that matched her own, and he leaned across carefully to kiss her. "Thank you."_

_"Well, I can't take all the credit. You and God did your part."_

_He laughed and then he looked down, still beaming. "Did you hear that, Mercy? You're going to be a big sister."_

They returned to the wagon and drove it down to a scenic spot near the river.

Ruth had packed all the fixings for a picnic lunch by the waterside. It was a beautiful day for it too. Kid carried the basket and Ruth carried Mercy.

Ruth was going on and on about the life of some person she'd just met yesterday. How she managed to uncover all that information from strangers would always be a mystery to him, but her rambling was sweet music to his ears.

"What?" she asked, noticing his grin.

"Nothing. You were saying?"

_Real Universe_

Sister Ruth weighed her words carefully before answering the troubled woman. Job came to her mind. Folks like his "friends" were quick to point out that sin was the cause of a believer's troubles and that the root of the problem was a lack of faith or an unconfessed wrong. Of course sin could cause low spirits, but she didn't get the sense that it was the case with this lady.

"Have you called on the name of Jesus Christ to save you, believing He was raised from the dead and that He is Lord?" Ruth asked. "Have you repented of your sins and been baptized?"

"Yes."

"Then I believe your salvation is secure. Even saints from the Bible weren't immune from melancholia. Jesus Himself understood and felt grief."

"Then why do I feel like this if God hasn't abandoned me? I don't even have a good reason to feel so unhappy."

"I don't know, but I know you can't base your life on emotions. You have to base it on the unchanging nature of God's Word."

"Read the Bible, pray, and you'll feel better," she said in exasperation. "That's the same advice my preacher gave me."

"Those things help and we shouldn't stop doing them, but I mean you have to understand that no matter how you feel, God promises to be with you and will be because He loves you."

"If He loves me, why won't He heal me?"

"He might yet, but look around. This ain't heaven. We're still broken though our sins have been forgiven. We still experience struggles and ups and downs as Christians. That's a part of this life and it's got little to do with whether we're saved or not. He never promised that this life would be easy just that He would be with us and work things out for good."

"That makes sense, I guess. You're the first one that's told me I can't make it go away. Somehow that's comforting."

"Well, if God wills it, it will, but He loves you either way. You ready to pray?" The woman nodded and they bowed their heads. "Forgive our sins, oh Lord. You remember that we are but dust and bestow boundless mercy on us. We know You feel my sister's pain. We know You will cause good to come from her season of sadness. We ask for Your healing. In Your Son's precious name we pray, amen."

"That was beautiful. Thank you. I do feel a little better."

"You just keep praying about it, having your brothers and sisters in Christ pray with you when you can't, and know that change sometimes takes time. And take care of yourself too. Eat well, sleep well, go out walking. You'll feel worse if you don't."

"You sound like a doctor," she said, her tone signaling it wasn't a compliment.

"Maybe you should see one. Depression ain't nothing to fool around with."

"So they can lock me in an asylum? No thanks."

It wasn't an unrealistic worry. Doctors were sometimes unsympathetic and she'd seen women locked up in mental institutions for a lot less. She wasn't always sure their methods of treatment were completely helpful either. Michaela she trusted, but she was over a 1000 miles away. "Well, that's up to you. The important thing is do you believe that He can heal you?"

"Yes."

"Then trust Him and believe Him, sister. He will deliver you."

The woman's husband looked up eagerly when Ruth came out. "Did you heal her?"

"I've done what I can, brother. It's in the Lord's hands now."

He looked deflated, taking it to mean no, but went to see his wife, who was feeling better now that she knew she could rely on the fact that she was saved.

Outside, on the way back to their room, Kid coughed so hard that he struggled to draw in air and Ruth had to pray for something as simple but necessary to life as his breathing. The Lord answered her plea and the coughing quickly subsided. Their time together in this world grew ever shorter.

It was then she heard the pretty singing of a bird. Most likely a mockingbird since it was so late at night. It reminded her that there was rest in the shelter of His wings and that there was always a reason to sing no matter where life took her.

She took Kid's hand and smiled, pulling hope and joy from a place outside herself and her heart sang praise to God even in the middle of her troubled circumstances.

The End


End file.
